


and there is no calculation

by sarcat



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 22:50:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcat/pseuds/sarcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you think we’ll ever have a New Year’s where we don’t end up being involved in some crazy mission gone horribly wrong?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	and there is no calculation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melissa13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissa13/gifts).



> Written for Melissa, part of a 12 days of ficmas prompt I received back in December. Just a tad late.

“That whole vibrating through objects thing isn’t something you ever figured out yet, right?” she questions a little sorely. It’s about the worst thing she can imagine saying, but the words leave her lips immediately and she can already visualize the deep crease settling between his brows.

He groans enough for her to hear, so she assumes she’s correct and settles the side of her head on the cold ground. It’s been rather dim in the cell ever since the main door to the room creaked shut, scrapping ugly against the steel door frame before it echoed out into silence.

That part was nice at least. It always is when your captor leaves you to your own devices, settled within that comfortable ten minute time frame where you are alone with your thoughts. It’s the only part of the mission you’re allowed to feel anything at all. You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to beat yourself up for not being good enough.  And they’ve all been through this part at some point in their career, even more than they are willing to admit, an outlet for emotional dumping.

Sometimes she needed it most of all.

The whole being detained and tied up part though, wasn’t as great. Actually, it hurt a little more this time around considering she was kicked directly in the ribs, falling gracelessly into the cell right after Wally had been shoved into his.   

Her thoughts drain as she inches her head back up off the floor, neck straining. “Wally?”

He’s struggling. She can hear too clearly, the noise his body makes when he’s trying to go fast when there’s nowhere to go. It sounds like tortured screaming, a rubber band being pulled to the point of snapping. She wants to go home. Anywhere that wasn’t this cell or these bindings sounded wonderful to her. She squirms until she’s uncomfortably curled in on herself, doing her best to avoid the sound or thoughts pulsing along her temples.

 A few minutes pass before he even thinks to stop. She closes her eyes momentarily, only opening them again when the eerie silence is broken by him.

“What?” he responds rather coldly. She knows he’s just riding off the edge of his helplessness, his own insecurities about himself. And she wouldn’t be surprised if she found a trickle of blood trailing from one of his nostrils. Sometimes he just tries too hard to prove his self-worth.

“I didn’t mean to,” she answers quickly. She catches her frantic words, clearing her throat once before slowing down. “You’ve always been good enough. And I don’t think anyone else’s opinion really matters, hm?”

She bites down roughly on her bottom lip, drawing a little blood from a crack that had only just stopped bleeding a half hour ago. Not getting an immediate response makes her fingers curl, and she can just barely touch the cables that are keeping her hands bound behind her back.

“You need to work on your delivery, babe,” he finally says in a bout of exhaustion.  

Forcing much against her will, she manages to sit herself up right, knees tucked primly to her left. She takes in a deep breath before leaning directly into the wall behind her. She can feel his smile through the concrete slabs, and almost instinctively her shoulders relax.  

“I’ll work on that when we aren’t being held captive,” she muses before tilting her head down to look at the tears running through her black strapless dress, “Do you think we’ll ever have a New Year’s where we don’t end up being involved in some crazy mission gone horribly wrong?”

“Not unless we start taking school seriously. Or, you know, maybe just not letting Rob woo us into accepting another mission on our special day.”

“Like I could say no?” she asks as more of a statement.

“Dating you is terrifying. I just want you to be well aware of that.” She’s sure the smile is long gone from his face by now.

She swallows thickly. “To my credit, I thought we’d be back home way before the ball dropped.”

“Mmmm hmmm,” he hums quietly, pleasantly. A part of her just wants to be near him; head tucked under his chin, so she could hear it and feel it all at once.

“You better be incredibly happy that I like you because if I didn’t I would kick you in the head,” she dares.

“I only get a ‘like’? Ouch, major bruise to the ego babe,” he jokes.

“You know what I mean.”

“But I really like it when you say it,” he responds low and warm.

The tips of her ears feel like they are burning. She has to remind herself exactly where they are before she can even formulate a response.

“Focus…” she growls.

“Oh, that reminds me.” His tone changes, it’s carefree and practically weightless as it hangs in the air. “I’m betting 15 seconds. If I win you need to promise me one night, just the two of us and no crazy missions, okay?”

“Betting on what?”

“You should know by now. How long it takes for Nightwing to finally bust us out of here? Should be 3, 2, 1.”

The alarm blares so loud that she barely hears the resounding _yes_ Wally whoops out before their cell doors slide open.

\--

“The mindlink is still down, are the others--” she whispers as she slides her knee ahead, palms pushing into the metal of the air duct to propel her forward. She says this after her dress won’t stop snagging on the bolts that keep the duct together. It had forced them to pause for a minute, Wally taking the portion shifting past her knees and tearing it unevenly with his hands. His fingers don’t linger at her thigh, just brushing past as he moves the material away and behind them both.

“Just keep moving,” he answers curtly. It’s enough to keep her focused, turning to the left when the duct suddenly curves.

She stops, face above the vent she’s touching lightly with her fingers. She peers through the slots, surveying the spotless white hallway below and the blaring red exit sign ahead. Her hair spills over her shoulder, brushing against her collarbone when she looks over her shoulder to meet brilliant green eyes. The black jacket of his suit has long since been discarded, white dress shirt sleeves sloppily rolled up past his elbows.  

A nod tells her what she needs to know. This was where they were dragged in, so this was exactly where they would let themselves out.

She makes quick work of the vent, pushing it away from their exit. She grips the other side of the vent, legs sweeping in front of her as she lowers herself with tense muscles. Dropping down, she lands with a soft click of her heels. Wally follows suit without any unnecessary ruckus or unplanned fall.

They both look to opposite sides of the hall before looking back to each other. It’s only a second after that she feels the pull in her mind, M’gann’s familiar thread weaving them all together in a collective thought.

_We located Queen Perdita. KF, Artemis, where are you guys?_

_Right by the garage where they brought us in. We’ll be fine. Go without us._

_We’ll rendezvous at the airport. We’ve already contacted her bodyguards and a plane is waiting to take her back._

_Keep her safe. Artemis and me will meet you there after we distract them for a bit._

_Artemis and I._

_Wow, definitely not the right time, babe._

They whip their heads behind them when they hear the knob of the door rattling. They’re taking retreating steps towards the exit when the door is kicked open, burley men with semiautomatic pistols trained on them.

Her hand reaches, pulling her dress up to reveal the crossbow strapped on her thigh. Before she can even make a move for it, he’s pulling her towards him, gathering her up in his arms before he’s sprinting straight towards the exit.

He shoulders the door, nearly taking it off its hinges as they narrowly escape a barrage of bullets. She feels him stumble suddenly when he gets them as far as the second large pillar of the garage, and her arms latch around his neck tightly.

“Out of juice,” he says in a fit of exhaustion, “Don’t think running is an option.”

She loosens her hold, and he sets her down easily. He huffs, throwing his arm over his eyes to collect himself.  When she hears shouting coming closer, she tries to get her mind working on their next move. She sees it to her far left, polished black with two wheels and helmets resting on new leather seats. She taps frantically at his arm. She hikes her head towards the motorcycle sitting unattended to their left. He catches the gist of her exaggerated motion and with a single nod of confirmation Wally pulls out his red goggles, sliding them over his eyes. He leaps out on the opposite side of the pillar while she stays pressed up against it.

“Hey losers! Do you really think those toys are a match for me?” he taunts.

It works because they’re firing almost instantly, their attention completely turned to him and his empty threats. She cautiously peers around the pillar, and when she’s sure they aren’t looking, she noiselessly makes her way to the perched bike.

She straddles it immediately, searching for the wires located in the ignition. She follows the wire down until her fingers pull up the plastic connector holding everything together. She unplugs it, revealing ports that she begins sticking a wire between until there’s a familiar click that tells her that the bike is on. Her hands meet the handles, and in one simple jerk she’s revving the engine loudly. The purr garners the attention of the henchmen, their last shot practically kissing Wally’s cheek before settling into the car door behind him.

She makes sure that they are all trained on her before pitching the kickstand back with her heel. She leans into the bike as the tires grind into the pavement, jerking forward. Heading straight for the group trying to reload their guns, she sticks her arm out clotheslining one and sending a handful of them diving for the ground. She pulls the handles sharply to the left, the back of the bike swerving in a single motion that sends the smell of burnt rubber straight to her nostrils. The bike reacts quickly to her demands, sailing forward as the men behind her begin pointing their guns again. Her sights are on Wally as she decelerates enough for him to get a good start. She watches as he blurs closer to her, hair like fire as it begins rippling familiarly beside her.

The sudden addition of his weight on the bike shifts its speed, her foot planting itself firmly on the accelerator until they are out of shooting range. They spiral up the height of the garage, her eyes fixing themselves on the exit just a few yards ahead of them.   

It’s only when they’ve successfully escaped that she really feels anything at all. First it’s the cool night air skipping along her bare arms. It raises gooseflesh unapologetically over her skin, but it’s relieving if anything. She breathes a little more evenly now, the adrenaline coming in steady waves as she becomes more aware of Wally’s heavy arms wrapped around her waist.

Her focus remains on the road turning into a deeper, quieter highway. There’s only their headlight smearing into the night and an endless amount of stars above them.

“This doesn’t count as romantic. Just in case you were wondering,” he talks to her from behind.

“Right, right. Because romantic for you is equated with dinner and lounging on the couch and never you tearing up my dress and enjoying a midnight drive with me,” she nearly laughs.

“You’re over exaggerating, but I think I can forgive you if we stop for a burger on the way home.”

The nearest service station is only 3 miles away.

\--

They’re home as early as 4:47AM. Their debriefing was abbreviated, but even then she couldn’t really decide to concentrate on what was being said. It takes a tap on her shoulder from Wally to wake her from her thoughts. He’s quick to rest his hand at the small of her back, ushering her in the direction of the zeta tube; goggles still perched over wind quenched hair.

She doesn’t look at him until they’ve crossed their threshold, and it’s only because he’s set her in front of him, his hands firm on her shoulders.

“Yes?” she asks while trying to roll his hands off of her.

He guides her chin with his hand, her eyes not having much of a choice, but staring directly at his. They’re deeply green as the first glimpses of pink starts to litter the sky from the view of their window.

“You’ve kind of been unresponsive since the cave. Just checking in,” he answers her truthfully, “You are okay, right?”

She nods as his thumb starts smoothing over her cracked lips. And it should hurt. She should be pulling away, but the mere contact has her craving a little more attention.

Her finger is already looping around the base of his tie, pulling until it’s a little looser and revealing the buttons of his rumpled shirt. It’s a dare, and he’s always up for a challenge. So she’s not surprised with how close he gets without actually kissing her, his breath whispering against the swell of her lips.

“Happy Anniversary, Artemis.”

She replies smartly, full on the mouth until she gets a rightful moan out of him and her back pressed up against the wall. His hand is finally where it should be, sliding the remaining material of her dress dangerously slow up her thigh to remove the holster.

It’s that very thrill, the after mission moments that tell her that she’ll probably never agree to the terms of his bet from earlier that night. Not with the way his fingers kneed into her skin and shock the sound right out of her.

She accepts the next mission whole heartedly the next day right after picking up the remaining scraps of her dress that didn’t make it in Wally’s hands, throwing it away in the trash impishly.   


End file.
